Dismantle
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'He's testing the boundaries, wondering how far down her wall has really fallen.' An alternate ending to Undead Again, 4x22.


**A/N: AU ending for Undead Again (4x22)**

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_for beinginthedarkesthour, _

_you're a queen when it comes to originality. Thank you for sharing this brilliant idea._

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He knocks a little too impatiently on her door, but he can't help it. There's this refreshing buzz of excitement thrumming through his veins, something that tastes suspiciously like hope swirling in his chest. He knows this goes against everything he's stood for over the last couple of weeks, but his mother was right, love is not a switch. He can't turn it off, not for Kate Beckett at least. And after that little conversation they had at the precinct, after hearing her say that her wall is coming down, that she wants him there when it does – he doesn't want to turn it off.

He hears the hurried sound of approaching feet on the other side of the door, pictures her dressed down in leggings and a loose t-shirt, or maybe she's still in her clothing from work, it's only been an hour since they parted ways. Ooh, or maybe she's wearing her workout gear like that one time he stopped by and she had just finished a yoga session. He wouldn't mind seeing that again.

But when the door swings open, he's met with none of the options he'd conjured up in his head. Instead, he's met with a very wet Kate Beckett.

"Castle," she greets in surprise, practically out of breath, and he can only assume that she abandoned her shower in a hurry and raced to the door for him. He wants to feel bad for the inconvenience, but it proves quite difficult when his mind is focused on… other things.

"I'm sorry," he blurts anyway, trying not to stare at the thin material of her white v-neck and the way it clings to her damp skin.

Her hair is still dripping wet, but tied back into a slick bun at her neck, highlighting the sharp bones and angles of her face. He's noticed how she's been losing weight lately, how her cheekbones are far more prominent than he's comfortable with and how her hipbones protrude through the fabrics of her pants, but she doesn't look so hollow anymore, not in this moment, not like she has over the last few cases they've worked together.

He supposes he's partially to blame for that.

His mind reasons that it isn't his responsibility to make sure she takes care of herself, it isn't his place to see that she eats right and goes home at a decent hour, but his heart argues that he loves taking care of her. He never asked for the responsibility, he just took it, and she let him. She would never allow anyone else the privilege, that has to mean something, doesn't it?

She waves him off. "It's fine. I was almost done anyway." Her eyes roam his face and he watches in fascination as the amusement sparks gold in the pools of her irises. She's void of makeup too, her face fresh and lovely as she smiles tentative and small for him. "Did you need some help getting the makeup off?"

She's grinning at him now and he can't help smiling back at her, feeling the dried chunks of colored foundation cracking along his cheeks.

"If you don't mind." He shrugs. "I was hoping Mother or Alexis could help me, but they're both out."

"No worries, Castle," she murmurs, stepping back to allow him inside. "I just hope my average strength makeup remover works for you."

Kate leads him through her bedroom, straight into her bathroom, giving him no time to examine the intimate space, and directs him to the closed seat of the toilet. The room is still filled with steam, the air thick and the mirror foggy and he finds it increasingly difficult to get a steady breath in.

It smells so intensely of her. He feels swallowed by it.

The light grey sweatpants she wears are a little too loose on her, making her look smaller, maybe a little younger too, and the fierce arousal that swamps his bloodstream doesn't make sense to him at first. He saw her dressed gorgeously in that stunning black gown just last week, but this - the mere sight of Kate so comfortable, so at ease in front of him - it makes his insides tingle with a spreading awareness that is far more consuming and much harder to control.

He tries to distract himself by watching her dig through her makeup bag, producing a package of wipes along with a bottle of clear liquid.

"We'll start with these," she decides, coming to stand before him with one of the moist cloths in hand. She hesitates next to him, prepares to bend forward to reach for his face, but he parts his knees before she can, bumping one against hers.

Kate looks down to him in question, a hint of wariness hiding in her eyes, but he merely shrugs, not saying a word, silently daring her to come closer.

Testing the boundaries, wondering how far down her wall has really fallen.

She's standing between his legs a second later, tilting his chin up with gentle fingers, and lifting the towelette to his face. She begins dabbing at his forehead first, swiping carefully, but after only a few attempts, the entire white cloth comes away covered in greens, blacks, and browns.

"How much of this stuff did you cake on?" she chuckles, trashing the wipe and grabbing another, repeating the process along his cheek.

"Too much apparently," he grumbles.

She hums in agreement and dusts her fingertips along the cleared patch of skin. The touch is tentative, delicate, and he holds his breath as he looks up at her. She doesn't meet his eyes, but her own are soft as they rove his face.

There's an underlying current of intimacy in all of this, in the reverent way she touches him, and he's so caught up in it, so enamored by this different side to their fragile relationship, that he isn't thinking when he places his hands to the backs of her knees.

She nearly buckles forward.

Kate catches herself with a hand at his shoulder, fingers digging into his shirt, but she's regained her composure within seconds, standing straight once more and steadfastly not looking him in the eye.

"You okay?" he asks, innocent and unassuming, as if he doesn't know why she reacted so strongly to him. He watches as she swallows and nods, but he doesn't remove his hands.

Kate works in silence for a few more minutes, focused on finding his face beneath the mask of makeup, and he continues to work his way up and down the back of her thighs, reveling in the subtle trembles that ripple beneath his touch every time his hands move.

The steam from her shower is long gone, but the air is growing thick again. Her body is taut with tension, her nipples straining against the white fabric of her shirt that hides nothing, and he can feel his own body reacting to her, his button up a little too warm, his slacks far too tight.

"It's even in your hair," she huffs, her voice surprisingly steady and lightened with mirth. She's finally finished with the makeup wipes and combing her fingers through his hair. He cringes as he hears the chunks of dried makeup falling from his hair, onto her floor.

_Really attractive, Rick._

Her fingers are still in his hair moments later, still carding through the short locks, though he knows for a fact he did not have _that _much makeup encrusted in his hair, and because he's apparently feeling bold today, he leans forward, allows his forehead to fall against her shoulder. He expects her to flinch, to stiffen and for her hands to draw away, but she doesn't move, doesn't stop cradling his skull and his fingers tighten at the backs of her thighs.

With his head so close to her chest, her throat, he feels more than hears her breath catch, feels the way her bones shudder as she exhales with great effort. They need to talk, they have _so _much to talk about, but his hands disobey his mind and skid higher instead.

Her sweatpants provide a barrier of soft, worn cotton, preventing him from feeling the heated silk of skin, but when his palms settle over the curve of her ass, he's certain that there's nothing else beneath the sweatpants.

His own pants are painfully uncomfortable now and Kate's growing restless underneath the weight of his hands, the muscles of her ass clenching, her fingers falling from his hair, down to curl around his shoulders. He's waiting for her to stop him, for her to run or reprimand him, _something_, but the only thing Kate does is cant forward, the line of her body shifting closer. Encouraging him.

Castle lifts his head from her shoulder, doesn't meet her eyes, but follows the path of his hands as they migrate to her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt. She whimpers as he finally touches her, touches as much bare skin as he can, splaying his palms over the arched expanse of her lower back, tracing the path of her spine, and trailing over the frame of her ribs, up to her breasts.

She cries out as he cups her, her body jerking forward, her arms twining around his neck as her lips drop to his ear.

"Don't stop," she gasps, pressing insistently against his hands, and nuzzling her nose against his temple. "Don't stop touching me, Castle."  
He can barely breathe, not when she's saying things he's only dreamt of. But he doesn't stop, he won't stop, never again.

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His scorching hand palms her breast and she collapses into him, a moan breaking past her lips as she sinks into his lap and his erection glances across her core. The friction is so good, everything she's wanted, and she rolls her hips in his lap, feels the groan reverberate against her neck where his lips have opened over her skin.

He sucks on the stretch of skin beneath her jaw, laving his tongue over the throbbing cadence of her pulse. Her heart is pounding so loud in her ears, this fiery need for him all consuming, washing over her, drowning her. He's hardly touched her, hasn't even gotten her clothes off, but she's already so far gone.

His thumbs are circling her nipples, evoking raw keening noises that tumble past her lips, and she tightens her arms around his neck, buries her fingers in silk strands of his hair and tries to hold on. Castle bites her, scrapes his teeth over the column of her throat, marking her as she rocks forward, and she knows she's soaking the crotch of her sweatpants - she's been practically dripping since he first touched her while she was removing the makeup from his face - but she doesn't have the willpower to feel embarrassed yet, to stop. She's wanted him for so long, and after the last few weeks, after he started pulling away from her and talking about leaving her, she never thought she'd have him.

The memory sends her hips crashing harder against his. He grunts and abandons her breasts, much to her dismay, and ropes his arms around her back, seals her closer. He's so hard beneath her, so solid and strong, and every muscle tenses and tightens as she shimmies, glides, and pushes against the length of him.

"God, Kate," he releases into the hollow of her throat, dipping one of his hands beneath the waist of her sweatpants, slipping his palm over the curve of her ass once more, squeezing the muscle and sending her jolting forward.

The sizzling heat between her legs ripples outwards, coating her in waves of tingling white-hot arousal. She moves her hips over him in tight circles, grinds down on his erection again and again, so close, her vision already going blurry, and then Castle cups the back of her skull, buries his fingers in her hair and cradles her body against his just as she shatters.

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He listens to her catch her breath as he tries to catch his own. Her face is hidden in the cove of his neck and her chest is heaving against his, the tangled web of her arms has gone slack around him, but he's still holding her tightly, afraid to let her go. Because he just watched her fall apart in his lap and he can't walk away now, not a chance.

"Castle," the husk of her voice startles him from his reverie, and he glances down sees the profile of her face, the flushed stain of her cheek and the lazy smile on her lips.

The drying strands of her hair are slipping from the confines of her bun, and he brushes the stray locks from her face, dusting his fingers along the soft skin he's never before had the privilege of touching until now. She hums and lowers one of her hands from his shoulders, captures his wrist with her fingers and turns her head, laying a kiss to his palm.

He swallows, unsure of her and maybe just a little scared. She has the ability to wreck him, she already has, and he doesn't think he can handle another blow of rejection tonight.

"Take me to bed."

He glances down at her in surprise, not sure if he's heard right, but she's staring up at him with her swollen bottom lip trapped between her teeth and sparkling expectancy in her eyes and he rises from the seat in her bathroom. Her legs latch around his waist as he carries her into the bedroom, but her head rises from his shoulder before he can reach the queen sized bed a few feet away and her hands cup his face just before she kisses him for the first time. It's soft and careful and he has to pause in the middle of the room to kiss her back, trusting in her grip around his waist to allow one hand to slither up her side, up to her neck, onto her jaw, where he angles her head to gain deeper access to her mouth.

She sighs against his lips as he lowers them both to the bed.

"Does this mean you're staying?" she murmurs, stroking her thumb over the shell of his ear.

Underneath the layer of lust in her eyes, there's a flickering uncertainty that makes his heart ache with regret. She lied to him, and they have to talk about that, about _why_, but he still hates himself for instilling doubt in her, for punishing her, because yeah, his mother was right about that too.

Castle sighs and drops his forehead to hers.

"I'm not going anywhere. But Kate, I need to know what you want, because I can't-"

"You," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if he should have already known the answer. "I want you." And then she's squirming underneath him, forcing him to rise up on his hands to give her the room to arch her back beneath him. His mouth goes dry as she catches the hem of her t-shirt with her fingers, maneuvering it up and over her head, and tossing it over the edge of the bed.

"Kate-"

"Shh, look," she breathes, coaxing him back down to his elbows and stealing one of his hands, pressing his fingers to the knotted flesh between her breasts. "It's yours."

"Mine?" he rasps, fanning his fingers out, covering the entirety of her scar and brushing the swells of her breasts, feeling her heart pound beneath his palm.

"If you still want it," she murmurs, diverting her eyes to his chin, but he recaptures her attention with his mouth, kissing her harder this time, slipping his tongue past her lips and swallowing the moan that escapes.

"Of course I want it," he growls. "But you - and the wall-"

"Castle, I think we knocked the last few bricks from the wall a few minutes ago," she points out, grinning cautiously, but her eyes are dancing and she just looks so relieved, so unguarded, and she may be teasing him, but he actually believes her. "But just in case…" She skims one of her hands down his back, trails it to the front of his slacks and flicks the button open. "I can spend the rest of the night proving it to you."

He's not going anywhere.


End file.
